


Call Me Lemon

by ashottoremember



Category: Bandom, Hesitant Alien - Gerard Way (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Cute, Drag, Friendship, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid, Gerard Way is a Sweetheart, Happy Ending, I don't know what else to tag this, Mentor/Protégé, Nonbinary Gerard Way, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Scotland, Self-Discovery, TW: drug use, i have a lot of gender feelings, they are cute friends supporting each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashottoremember/pseuds/ashottoremember
Summary: Gerard flies to Scotland to meet up with Grant to discuss taking over the Doom Patrol comics. Instead Grant helps him discover an element of his identity which he has been neglecting since college.
Relationships: Grant Morrison/Gerard Way
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Call Me Lemon

Gerard was nervous, his palms clammy as he wiped them over his dark jeans. His nails had already been chewed down to stubs, and yet he continued to gnaw at them nervously. He was jonesing for a cigarette, and was painfully aware of how much longer he would have to wait inside the airport before he could once again feel the burn of nicotine in his lungs. Another run of hands on jeans, another step forward in the line, almost outside. The flight from LAX to Glasgow had been uneventful, Gerard had managed to switch off for most of the time, distracted himself with drawing and reading. But now he was so close to freedom and his craving consumed most of his attention. He was so preoccupied he almost missed his bag as he waited at the carousel. He was so focused on getting out the front doors so he could light up, in fact, that he walked straight past his friend and mentor he had come to meet. 

“Gerard, do you need to get your prescription checked?” A booming Scottish voice called to him, stopping him in his tracks. 

He spun on his heel and peered over his sunglasses at the owner of the voice. “Grant, I am so sorry,” he blushed, and rushed in to hug them. “I’m a bit strung out from the flight.” He explained, stepping back to look up into their face, and continued to gnaw at his fingers. Gerard always felt small in comparison to Grant. Occasionally he would consider the reality of how they had become close friends over the years and have to pinch himself. 

“Well dinnae let me keep you from your fix,” They gently nudged Gerard towards the exit, smoothly transitioning his luggage into their hand. 

Grant politely waited for Gerard to finish his cigarette before navigating him to their car. They chatted non-stop the entire time, as if it hadn’t been months since they had last seen each other. This was what Gerard loved about their relationship, that they were always able to just slot right back into the same routine so naturally. 

A few hours later, Gerard had settled into one of the guest rooms and changed into fresh clothes. He was finally feeling more human again, but was now yearning for a cup of coffee to get him through the jetlag. By his count he had been awake for 18 hours, but it was still the middle of the day so he needed to push through. He left his room and padded down one of the elaborate hallways to where he remembered the kitchen being situated. 

“Awright ya wee bawbag?” Grant smiled up at him from a stool at the kitchen island, a glass of whiskey on the rocks next to what they were working on. 

Gerard chuckled at the strange Scottish term. Grant had assured him on many occasions that it was endearing, but he struggled to get past the connotation of calling someone you care about a scrotum. “Feeling better after a shower,” he responded

“Please, come sit with me, Gerard,” Grant patted the stool next to them. 

Gerard loved the way Grant would say his name. The way the vowels purred on their tongue. The Scottish accent was often harsh to listen to, yet when Grant said Gerard’s name it was soft and gentle. He took up the stool next to them obediently, trying to get a peak at what they had been working on. 

“Work later,” Grant chided, closing the book and pushing it to the side. “Can I wet your whistle?” 

“I was hoping for a coffee, actually,” Gerard blushed again. He didn’t mean to, but between the tiredness clouding his mind and Grant’s proximity his nervous system decided to betray him. 

“Aye, alright,” Grant set to making Gerard’s coffee, using one of the most elaborate espresso machines he’d ever seen. 

“What were you working on?” Gerard leant forward to try and get another look at Grant’s sketchbook, but his hand was met with a sturn smack. 

“I told you, work later. Tomorrow. Today is for gaieties,” Grant placed the cup of espresso in front of Gerard and retook their seat. 

Gratefully, Gerard wrapped his hands around the small cup, inhaling the steam blissfully. “Thank-you,” he took a sip and enjoyed the sensation of the hot liquid slipping down his throat. “It’s a bit early in the day for whiskey, isn’t it?” Gerard looked at Grant slyly. 

“Och, I tried the straight edge thing for the first half of my life,” Grant smirked. “It got old, boring. I realised I was simply placating society. When you get to be my age, Gerard, you realise there is little value in living to appease others.” 

Gerard’s brows knitted together in confusion as he contemplated what his mentor was telling him. “I’m not sure I follow. Is this some elaborate justification for dropping some acid now and then?” Gerard half-smiled up at Grant. 

“No, you dafty.” Grant placed their glass back on the island and stood up. “I started to live my truth,” 

Gerard shook his head, his face once more etched with confusion. 

Grant pinched between their eyebrows, shaking their head slightly in dismay. “Let me show you something, Gerard.” Gerard had only a second to down the rest of his espresso before they linked an arm through his, and pulled him down one of their castle’s elaborate halls. 

Gerard thought to himself once more that he would never get used to the expanse of this place as he was towed along behind Grant. They walked down a number of hallways and a flight of stairs before finally entering what Gerard assumed to be another guest room. The room was plainly decorated compared to the rest of the castle, but still contained a king sized bed and some discarded merchandise from comic events. 

Grant stepped away from Gerard after a beat, an aura of tension surrounding them. Usually Gerard found Grant to be full of self-confidence that came only with a deep understanding and connection of one’s place in the universe. And yet, in this moment, they seemed to hesitate. 

“Very few people have seen what I am about to show you,” Grant held Gerard’s eye contact intently. “But I trust you to understand. I hope it may also aid you in better understanding yourself.” 

Gerard was once more concerned, taking a step forward. Without a moment’s more hesitation Grant pulled open the wardrobe doors, exposing a small room filled with exotic costumes. Glitter and feathers and sparkles and leather all burst forth from the wardrobe. Gerard’s eyes were as large as plates as he moved towards the costumes without thinking, drawn in by their colour and shape and material. 

“You have quite a hidden collection of costumes in here,” he muttered, running his fingers gently over the different textures. 

“They’re not costumes, per se,” Grant corrected him, taking his hand off the clothing and holding it tight. 

Gerard turned his attention back to Grant. “Are they all yours?” 

Grant nodded, not releasing Gerard’s hand, holding it up between the pair. 

Gerard scoped around the small room, eyes catching favourably on a well-made feather boa. “I’ve missed wearing things like this,” he said quietly, the words surprising even him as they escaped his mouth. 

“These aren’t costumes, Gerard, they are another dimension of who I am.” Grant looked at Gerard intently, hoping he would derive their meaning.

A mischievous smile spread across Gerard’s thin lips. “I’ve dressed in drag too, you know that. Why is this something you’re being shy about?” 

Grant dropped Gerard’s hand in exasperation, running their fingers over their head. “Except for me it’s not drag,” they pulled Gerard’s chin, holding his gaze, “and I don’t think it was for you either.” 

It was a struggle for Gerard to swallow against the large lump of anxiety which had formed in his throat. He felt exposed, vulnerable but also safe. Grant was incredibly perceptive, it was part of what had drawn Gerard to them initially. "I don't follow," Gerard said after a beat, his voice breathy. Grant's hand was still holding his chin, still forcing him to stare into their eyes. 

"Gerard Way, I know you're not as dense as you're pretending right now." Grant moved away, slipping into the room between all the fabrics, caressing the clothes as they went. 

As if under a spell, Gerard followed, the colours entrancing him once more. Feathers and silk and lace brushed against him, coaxing memories from a previous life to resurface. “What are you getting at?” he half muttered to himself. 

After the initial bulk of clothing, there was a small opening with a pouffe in the centre and a decadent vanity; enough space to get changed. A floor-to-ceiling mirror covered the back wall of the room, allowing you to inspect your appearance in full. 

Grant sat gently on the pouffe and watched Gerard as he continued to gawk at the small room’s contents. “I would like you to tell me again about your time in college.” They patted the small space next to them on the pouffe, indicating for Gerard to perch next to them. 

“You’ve already heard it,” Gerard took up the small space next to them, crossing his legs. “There’s nothing more to tell. I dressed up, I looked hot,” 

“But more than that, how did it feel?” Grant met Gerard’s eyes and held contact. 

“It was terrifying,” Gerard pondered for a moment more before continuing. “It felt...exhilarating when I realised people were treating me differently. I wish I could have spoken to people without giving myself away, that part was scary. I wish I had tried it sooner,"

Grant nodded, but didn't say anything. A small smile twitched at the corner of their lips. 

"There was a part of me that finally felt placated," Gerard confessed, breaking his eye contact with Grant. 

"I understand," Grant pulled Gerard's chin again to see into his eyes. "If you are comfortable, I want to offer you that chance to explore yourself again. I spent years smothering a part of my soul that longed to be something completely other to what people saw. If you let me, I want to help you nurture that part of yourself."

***

“Does anything call out to you?” Grant eyed Gerard as he inspected the clothing on the racks. 

“I mean, yes, but also I’m-” 

“Just trust your instincts,” Grant approached Gerard, placing their hands on his shoulders and squeezing gently. They spoke softly into Gerard’s ear, their voice tickling his neck. “Let go of your fear.” 

Gerard took a deep breath and consciously relaxed his shoulders under Grant’s hands. “Alright, let’s have some fun.” He slipped out of Grant’s grip and started to pull out clothes forming an outfit. Occasionally he would consider an item and look at Grant for approval, to which he would receive an encouraging nod or stern shake of the head. 

After an hour of fussing with straps and clasps and powder, the pair were unrecognisable and vibrating with elation. Gerard sat in front of the vanity, his breath hitching as he stared into the eyes of his reflection. He didn’t recognise the woman staring back at him. If it weren’t for his freckles poking through the makeup, he wouldn’t have been able to believe that he was looking at himself. Grant had helped him gently highlight his sharp cheekbones and jawline. He was no stranger to wearing makeup, but he had never worn it to make himself so beautiful. 

Grant met his reflection’s eyes as they leant down next to him, combing their fingers through his ginger hair. “How do you feel?” Grant had also let Gerard help them with their makeup, choosing a bold red lip and thick eyeliner in a nod to a vintage style. 

Gerard’s heart was pounding in his chest, he felt so right and so terrified. “I feel pretty,” his voice came out as barely as whisper. He was no longer Gerard Way, he was someone else, someone who had been inside of him all along, but he had never let her out properly before. Whoever she was, though, she was intrepid, and turned quickly to plant a gentle kiss on Grant’s cheek before he could be embarrassed at the boldness. 

Grant didn’t pull back, but turned to meet Gerard’s eyes again. “What was that for?” They smiled down at Gerard, obvious pride glimmering behind their eyes. 

“Thank-you for accepting all of me,” Gerard looked back at himself, trying to take it all in. 

“I knew she was hiding inside of you,” Grant patted his back before turning to fetch something from the corner of the room. 

Gerard followed them with his eyes, admiring the way the emerald green, silk, slip dress caressed their hips as they walked. Grant had kept the look simple, but reminiscent of a silver-screen leading lady. Gerard had insisted that if he were going to do this, they had to join him. It was comforting to him that they could do this together; plus he didn’t want to be the only one overdressed with nowhere to go. The pair had decided that Gerard would try some high-waisted, black shorts with a sheer black blouse. He had initially pulled out what could only be described as a Pretty Woman costume and Grant had promptly intervened. 

Growing up, Gerard had been insecure about his feminine hips, but the shorts accentuated his curves and made his legs look incredibly long. Grant had provided him with a pair of thick pantyhose to cover his leg hair to further enhance the illusion. They turned back holding up a pair of chunky-heeled leather boots. Gerard’s heart skipped a beat. He had always favoured leather and boots and studs, and Grant presented the shoes to him with a proud smirk. 

“I thought these might be right up your alley,” 

Gerard slipped them on with shaking hands. They stopped just above his knees, and gratefully had a zipper on the side so he didn’t have to lace them all the way. The heel wasn’t too high and he felt incredibly at ease as he stood, taking in his full appearance in the large mirror. A strange sense of melancholy overwhelmed him as he looked at himself. Short orange hair, glamorous makeup, feminine curves. He was a freshman in college again, realising how right this could feel, realising there was more to him than just a man. 

“What does this mean?” He turned to Grant, unable to keep looking at himself. 

Grant gently took his hands in theirs. “Don’t panic. You are still the same person you were this morning. You are still Gerard Way.” 

“But what does this mean?” Gerard could feel he was starting to panic, could feel his heart pounding, hear his voice rising. 

“Gerard, look at me,” Grant tipped his chin up to meet his eyes once more. “Breathe. You are safe. This doesn’t mean anything. You are who you are and no-one else is going to take any of that away from you.” 

Gerard inhaled sharply through his nose, focusing on Grant’s eyes. His mind was churning rapidly and his stomach started to join in. "Can we go somewhere else?" he managed to get out. The walls were starting to feel too close and sweat prickled all over his body.

Grant deftly pulled a denim jacket off one of the racks as they linked arms with Gerard. "Come on, the view outside is spectacular at this time of day," 

Mindlessly, Gerard followed after Grant, focusing on breathing evenly and refusing to let his thoughts get away from him. After only a couple of turns, Grant was sliding open a glass door to a patio with a large outdoor sofa. Gerard flopped onto it without hesitation and started to root around for his cigarettes. 

"Fuck, I left them in my jeans," he balled his fists into his hair in frustration. 

Grant lounged next to him on the couch, wordlessly producing a joint and holding it up in front of Gerard. A knowing smile spread across their lips as they lit it and handed it to Gerard. 

"I'm sorry if I pushed you too far too fast," Grant said.

Gerard inhaled deeply, letting the drug cloud his brain and calm him down. He shook his head, "No, I...I love this." He pulled at the hem of the shorts and handed the joint back. "It's just scary to admit how much I love this."

"You don't have to be comfortable right away,"

"But you-"

"I have been discovering myself since I was ten years old. It takes time and a willingness to confront the unknown." 

Gerard took another hit and pondered this for a moment. The trees around them were turning orange for the coming winter, a slight chill in the afternoon air. A shiver rolled down Gerard's spine, the sheer blouse doing little to stop the wind. Grant offered him the jacket and he slipped it on gratefully. 

"Does this have to be a big deal? Am I meant to do certain things now?" 

"Of course not! You can do whatever you want, Gerard. Frankly it's no-one else's business how you get your jollies." 

Gerard couldn't stop the giggle that escaped his painted lips. He took a deep breath and finally relaxed his shoulders, leaning into Grant’s side slightly. “I told you I looked hot as a chick,” 

“You certainly do,” 

They smoked the rest of the joint quietly, Gerard’s mind churning over thoughts, calming down. Grant was right, this wasn’t something the world needed to know about; and to be fair it wasn’t completely new for him either. What was new was the realisation that there was definitely more to who he was than just a man. He focused his eyes on the horizon, taking in the view, as he broke the silence. “How did you figure it out?” 

“A lot of fear, a lot of misunderstanding. Decades of exploration,” 

“And how did you...I don’t know...manage it all?” 

“Through my art, and my work,” 

Gerard nodded, but didn’t say anything, still focused on the horizon and the setting sun. 

“I experimented with characters who cross-dressed, or were queer. That was scary and liberating at the same time. But it was when I found Danny that I finally understood. You don’t have to be a man or a woman, just like you don’t have to be a street or a shop. You can be one or both or in between - no-one is going to stop you.” 

“I came here to talk to you about Doom Patrol, actually,” 

“Work tomorrow. Today, we have fun,” Grant reminded him sternly, pulling him closer as the temperature dropped with the setting sun. 

“Thank-you, Grant,” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Quinn, Mike and Ghoul for helping me get this done. This started off as just a paragraph of Grant looking at Gerard and telling him to accept his fluidity. From there they inspired me to keep it going and I'm very happy with the final result. 
> 
> For now this will just be a oneshot, but I may potentially continue this at a later date when I inevitably have more gender feelings that I need to work through. Thank-you for reading.
> 
> Title from @gerardway Twitter Jun 15 2014


End file.
